Need You Now
by persevera
Summary: Beginning of Damily-Damian is reunited with a sassy former contender with a sassy suggestion
1. Say It

Samuel pushed a dredlock from the side of his face and looked over at the pretty, dark-haired young woman sitting next to him in the cab.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" he asked, "It's okay to change your mind."

Emily sighed. "Each of the five times you've asked me I've said yes. Why do you think the answer would be different a few minutes later?"

"We're almost there now," he said. "I'm having second thoughts so maybe you are too. I don't want you to feel obligated because we flew you out here."

"No," she said with a shrug of her shoulders, "no second thoughts. And the flight sucked. It wouldn't obligate me at all. "

Samuel sighed and looked out his window, his foot nervously beating on the floor of the vehicle.

"You're not a pimp, Sam," Emily said reassuringly. "You're a good friend and I'm….willing. The only problem we have is if he doesn't want me," she said a little shakily.

Samuel looked over at her again. "Hmph, then we have no problem," he said.

The cabdriver parked across from the heavily landscaped apartment complex and Emily jumped out. "Bring on the Irish," she said brightly.

Sam instructed the driver, "Wait for her," adding under his breath, "one of the coolest chicks around".

He announced himself at the gate and walked with her to their friend's apartment.

Emily hadn't seen Damian in months and had no idea how he would react to her but she covered her nerves and turned on her flirtatious charm.

"Hey, Irish," she said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Emily."

Damian was clearly stunned. But months of acting class had taught Samuel to read people's faces. Past the surprise, he saw what else his Glee cast mate was feeling as he watched Emily sashay into his apartment.

_Nope,_ Sam said again to himself, _no problem._

He took the armchair in the living room, leaving the sofa for the other two.

"So," Damian began, "what are you doing here with this guy?"

Emily hadn't expected him to look so haggard. "Are you alright?" she asked, instinctively raising her hand to his face.

Damian felt the shock of her touch. "I'm okay. I've just been busy."

"Well I heard all the way in New York that you haven't been taking care of yourself, she said sassily. "You're not sleeping well or eating regularly and whatever you're doing for fun clearly isn't relieving your tension."

"O-kay," he said. The last thing in the world he expected was a lecture from Emily Vasquez.

She hesitated, forgetting, in his presence, what she'd planned to say next. "Could I have some water?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said, glad to be able to do something assuredly, since his mind was reeling. "Anything else….Sam?"

"Yeah, thanks," he said, watching Emily.

He leaned toward her while Damian was in the kitchen. "You can still ch…"

Emily shot him a look that silenced him and he raised his hands in resignation.

Damian returned with water bottles and sat down again, slightly closer to the girl.

She took a couple of swallows from the bottle before continuing.

"You have to understand, Damian, that our whole weird little Glee Project family needs for you and Samuel to really kill it on the show. It makes us all look better and increases the chances of Ryan using us on that show or one of the other ones he's working on. I don't mean to put any more pressure on you, I just want you to understand that we…I want you to do really well and I'd like to help, if I can."

Samuel got up from the chair and began to move nervously around the room. Emily drank some more water. Damian sat befuddled but unable to take his eyes off of her.

She spoke again, this time more seriously. "You've been really smart not to get involved with anyone here. You're too busy for a girlfriend and you don't need anyone else making demands on you, but…"

She looked at him directly, "When was the last time you really felt sexy?"

Damian was taken aback by the question and responded almost defensively, "why?"

Emily began to speak rapidly now, her nervousness and discomfort becoming apparent. "You've been adorable as Rory but at some point, they're going to want to see that side of you, not just flirtatious but passionate. I've always thought you were cute so…" She stopped speaking.

Damian's heart began to beat faster. _No way,_ he said to himself. _Don't even think she's here for you. Not possible. God, I'd forgotten how beautiful she is._

Emily watched his face and body language and thought, _I can't do it. He's going to say no and I don't want to hear it._

Rising from the couch, she said, "So I just wanted you to know that we're all rooting for you and want you to take care of yourself, okay?" (_Oh great, Em_, she said to herself, _why don't you just break out in his song._) "Let's go, Samuel."

"No, wait!" said Damian, jumping up also, anxious to stop them. "Sam, you're not leaving here with her until I know what the Hell is going on!"

Sam turned back, disgusted. "You're not stupid, man. You know what's going on. You didn't have to make it so hard. Bryce and I decided you needed to get laid. Undressing every girl you see on the street with your eyes might be a European thing but it's going to get you cold-cocked by somebody's boyfriend and it's gotten worse lately. We thought about just taking you somewhere to hook up but you're kind of public now and you don't need that story in the press. Plus, there was always Cameron to think about," he said, alluding to Damian's roommate and another former contestant, whose views on sex and morality were known to all of them.

Samuel glanced at his watch before continuing. "Celibacy works for him but we could tell you're ready to explode. So the best option was someone who knows you and what you're going through," he said rolling his eyes, "and was still willing to take your sorry ass. I've been in touch with Emily the last couple of months and she seemed an obvious choice if she'd go along with it—hard to resist for anyone and I knew you had a thing for her anyway. I slept in the bed next to yours for weeks. You didn't talk in your sleep exactly but, I knew."

"I thought about it for a while," she said hurriedly. "You're so far away from your family and friends and as much as everyone here likes you, they all expect something from you. I don't so I could just be nice to a hot young guy so, why not?"

She looked at him again. "You are so tense, worse than I had imagined from what Samuel told me. You need…relief and a little romance wouldn't hurt. I care about you but not like someone I want to spend my life with and not like a little brother-more like a fourth or fifth cousin so this would be okay."

Damian shook his head in confusion. If she had just come to him or called him, he would have been thrilled but knowing Samuel was involved…and Bryce and who knew who else.

He looked at Sam coldly, "And how long have you been planning this?"

Samuel returned the look. "Yeah, it took some planning. Sue us! We had to figure out a time when you weren't working and when Emily was available and when we could get Cameron out of here 'cause I don't think he'd go along with this idea either. So we came up with the date, we flew her out here, booked a hotel and Bryce got studio time for him and Cameron, which will end soon," he added, looking at his watch again. "I didn't think you'd take this long deciding. What's your problem, dude? Look at her."

Damian put his head in his hands and moved farther away from them. "I don't want…" he began.

Sam put his arm around Emily, as if he could protect her from the blow of Damian's next words.

"Yeah, we get it. You don't want. Fine. Come on Emily."

"No," Damian said, now nearly desperate to keep them there until he could say what he was thinking.

He locked his gaze on Emily. "I don't want to use you."

And they all remembered Emily's admission from the show about being exploited by sleazy music producers.

She looked at him, breaking the promise she'd made to herself not to stare into the wells of his blue eyes.

"You're not like that, hon," she said. "I've had plenty of time to change my mind and I haven't, until a few minutes ago when I thought you were going to reject me. I've actually been looking forward to this, but only if you were the charming, fun, borderline raunchy guy I remember, not this sullen…thing," she said sweeping her hand in front of her, as if she could erase the unappealing parts of the younger man standing across the room.

From the corner of her eye, she saw that Samuel was motioning for her to leave.

"So now you know what the Hell is going on," she said. "And I'm about to leave with Sam, unless you ask me to stay."

For the first time since this unbelievable conversation began, Damian allowed himself to look at Emily-petite and voluptuous, with glossy hair and lips that made him feel…hungry…and he began to imagine.

_I can have this?_ he said to himself. _She wants to be with me? And all I have to do is say yes? Well, say it, you arse, speak!_

He looked up at Sam, who was still glaring at him. "Sorry, mate."

"Please stay," he said, focusing once more on Emily.

She nodded with a small smile and took a few steps toward him.

Staring at her, Damian dismissed Samuel with "I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Okay," said Sam, moving awkwardly toward the door. "Yeah, a couple of days. Well, 'bye Emily."

Closing the door behind him, he let out a low, protracted whistle. "I am a good friend," he said. Walking toward the entrance of the complex, he sent a text to Bryce, "It's on." He waved to the cabdriver and ambled down the street.

Inside the apartment, Emily closed the distance between herself and Damian for a long, soft kiss.

"You need to pack," she said, "but you shouldn't need much. Samuel left the meter running on a cab for us."

"Nice of him," said Damian, running his finger along Emily's jaw line.

"We've been trying to tell you we're running out of time. What if Cameron should walk in now and wonder why I'm here? I'd have to say I just dropped in to say hello and I'll be going now and actually leave."

That spurred him into action. He threw some things in a bag, sprinkled food in the fish bowl, and left his apartment with his arm around the girl featured in some of his most explicit dreams.


	2. Therapy

The sun was pouring in the window of the high-rise hotel room as Damian awoke. He looked over at the woman asleep next to him-nude, gorgeous, with (he congratulated himself) a satisfied smile on her face. Beat the Cowboy Woody doll that usually shared his bed all to hell.

He put on the shorts lying on the floor on his side of the bed and headed to the coffee maker. He took the room service tray from the previous night and put it outside the door of the nice but not spectacular hotel room-not that he'd noticed yesterday when he and Emily had arrived in such a frenzy.

She began stirring and Damian felt a little excitement that they could begin their day together.

"Hi," he said. "So what would you like to do today? Hang out on the beach, sightseeing, something athletic, you name it."

"We can stay right here and do something athletic," she said.

"Yeah, you've already made me feel like I won the World Cup single-handedly," he said, "but you don't want to stay in here the whole time, do you?"

Emily put on the hotel robe lying on the bed and got up to pour a cup of coffee for herself.

"I planned to explain this to you yesterday but I ran out of time before we left your place and conversation's been minimal since. This isn't a date, Damian, it's therapy."

He looked puzzled and disappointed, reminding Emily of their three-plus year age difference.

"The goal was to de-stress you and wake up your libido. Mission accomplished," she said to him with a sly smile."

She sat next to him on the sofa. "You're a really sweet, really cute guy." She corrected herself. "Okay you're a really sweet, really cute guy who can give me multiple orgasms. "But you couldn't handle me outside of a hotel room. You might not even like me. You've led almost a charmed life—professionally, at least. You've been adored by the general public for years. I don't think you can understand how differently people like me who haven't been so lucky might think and act."

"I'm not as sheltered or inexperienced as you think," he defended himself.

"I don't think having to fight off groupies-or not fight them off-while you're on tour with your world-wide popular band makes for a hard-knock life," she countered.

Damian shifted on the sofa so that he was hovering over her. "Look, I know I'm dead-lucky. I won't say I've gotten everything I have by working hard, because I've seen how hard you and other people have worked without as much reward. I'm lucky. That means I usually get what I want," he said. "So if I want you, you're wasting your time fighting me. I'd pit the luck of this Irish against the stubbornness of 'The Latin from Manhattan' any day," he said, raising his brow sardonically.

"And I haven't found anything unlikable about you. I know your history and the things that you think make you wrong for an innocent boy like me—bollocks."

"There are a lot of bastards in this business and you've run into a few of them. They're just stepping stones on your way to the top, not the other way around. And don't expect me to be turned off because you like girls. As long as the girl I'm with is faithful to me, why should I care who she was attracted to before?"

"Yeah," Emily said glibly, "you can keep that in mind in case you ever do date anyone who's bi-sexual."

She pushed her hair back and sighed deeply. "It's gotten too heavy in here, man," she said. "We need to lighten the mood."

"Well, he responded," loosening the sash on her robe, "since we're staying in, I was hoping for more therapy. Being so close to you is making me tense up again."

"Good," she said, tugging on his shorts, "because I've scheduled an extensive examination for my VIP patient."

He lay back and welcomed her ministrations, thinking he'd have to return the favor.

Not like her? He was crazy about her….and the way she was nuzzling the inside of his leg right now, she was his favorite person on the planet!

He pulled her up to him and she slid along his body. Still holding and kissing her, he rose from the sofa and moved to the bed, laying her crosswise.

He followed her curves and contours with his hands and mouth and cataloged every mole and freckle, beauty mark and small scar, that required purring explanations of old injuries, and kisses to make it better.

"Maybe he is magical," she thought, moaning softly, as another rush of pleasure swept through her.

Using his new vocabulary word, Damian said in delight and amazement, "It's like you can will an orgasm."

Emily giggled, drunk on endorphins.

"We know there are always plenty where that came from," he said huskily, reaching for the last condom in the box.

"Not always," Emily chirped. "I need to be properly motivated and it's been a pleasant surprise how motivational you can be."

Suddenly she was straddling him.

The elemental man in Damian began thinking in simple words…the heat, the sweet vise in which she held him.

As they pressed against each other, she looked down at him lasciviously and said, "I'll have to tell Zach (Glee choreographer) that your rhythm has improved."

His low chuckle triggered another reaction in her and she closed her eyes and rolled back her head.

He rose from the pillows to meet her, continuing his basic observations….that face, with an expression his ego told him no one else had ever seen….her back, reflected in the mirror across from the bed. He ran his fingertips down the length of it. She shivered and wrapped herself around him.

Their breathing and motion became faster, more intense until, shuddering and gasping, she cried out his name.

With that he felt as though he lost every ounce of fluid, sinew and bone in his body.

Locked together, they fell back on the bed and carefully rolled to the side.

Between looking at her and touching her, Damian said wistfully to Emily, "You were sent away too early. I wish I could have sung a duet with you, or seen you in a Cheerios costume." He slid his splayed fingers down her face. "Even dripping in slushie, you'd be sexy."

She lowered her eyes. "I didn't know how good you are," she said almost apologetically. "You were so hopeless in choreography and I heard so little of your singing." Then smiling she laced her fingers in his. "But you won me over during the finale. You owned the stage and your voice was so strong and…masculine. On some of your notes, you made me twinge."

"Really?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's actually one of the reasons I agreed to come," she said playfully. "I thought if nothing else, I could have you sing to me to turn me on."

"Well then," he said, moving onto his back and stretching, "thank God for the pipes."

"Ah, the golden pipes from the Emerald Isle," she teased with a lilting tenor.

"Begorra," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes and pulling her closer.

He was quiet for a moment then intoned dreamily "I always loved your voice. I told the lads that I thought you were the best vocalist of all the girls in the competition."

"I saw that," she said smugly.

"How did you see that?" he asked, knowing it hadn't been on the telecast.

"From the online outtakes," she explained.

To keep his ego and in some cases temper in check, Damian avoided the fan sites but he could understand how some of his former competitors might be drawn to them.

"Are there a lot of clips where I'm leering at you?" he asked.

"Oh, please, honey," she chided, "you leered at everyone." He started to argue the point, but really couldn't.

"Most of it escaped the camera though, except for when we were all in the dorm before the final performances and you couldn't take your eyes off of my boobs."

He grinned sheepishly. "Well I'm only human. And after all those weeks, you were a sight for sore, tired eyes. And, like Samuel said, it's a European thing."

"It was okay for this American. Knowing you, I would've been disappointed if you hadn't stared," she said.

He responded, "Knowing you, I would've been disappointed if you hadn't given me something to stare at."

They laughed lightly and he closed his eyes in complete contentment.

"Damian," she began cajolingly.

"Hm," he answered sleepily but warily.

She slinked on top of him and asked, "Would it be weird if we sang the duet from the show?"

Such a beautiful, simple request, he thought, when he'd been ready to give her his birthright, if that's what she'd asked for.

"No, it wouldn't be weird," he answered. "I'd love to sing with you."

He began rocking beneath her, "She gets too hungry…"

"Not that one," she said with a little slap.

"Oh, sorry," he responded teasingly. "These boots are made for…"

"No," she groaned in mock disgust.

He became serious, realizing that because she had been eliminated much sooner than she should have, she had missed out on the chance to prove herself against the others in some crucial contests. "Do you mean the one that all of the pairs sang together?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, "Need You Now."

"Right," he said, "you start."

Suddenly she sat upright. "We can't sing in bed. We'd never make it through the song."

And with a quick kiss, she was on the floor, pulling on the robe again.

He saw a new excitement in Emily, one that he understood….the entertainer anticipating a performance.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and realized her plane was set to depart for New York in just a few hours.

"Okay," he said resignedly, "why don't you make yourself just a little less tempting and I'll get things ready out here."

She grabbed her bag and skipped to the bathroom.


	3. Duet

Damian again pulled on his shorts and, rummaging in his bag, found a button-down shirt that he threw on while preparing things for the duet with Emily.

He saw her plane ticket lying on the dresser next to her purse and noted the gate number for the flight. He pushed back the table and chairs from in front of the window, creating a make-shift stage. Then he sent a couple of messages from his phone and set it upright on the table

Emily came bouncing out of the bathroom, clean and invigorated, no less desirable, in tight pants and v-neck sweater, but at least presentable to the general public.

She selected the song from her phone's playlist and they began their duet, blending his deep baritone with her smoky timbre. They stood close together and touched lightly for a portion of the lyrics then moved away, modifying the exquisite coming together and pulling apart from the number shown in the Pairability episode.

It ended with the two of them in a light embrace. He held her face in his hands and bent down for a long, soft kiss.

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "That was really good, wasn't it?"

He lifted her off her feet so that they were eye to eye. "That was lovely," he said tenderly.

She suddenly threw her arms around his neck and cried quietly over the sting from her elimination from almost a year ago—the feeling of rejection, the second-guessing that followed, and the missed opportunities.

Damian's natural wide-leg stance offered stability for them and he held her in that position until she stopped crying. He sensed a difference in her as she slithered down his chest and back to the floor.

Her eyes were saucy as she said, "Wow, Damian, I don't remember you being so strong….or cut," she added, tracing his chest muscles with a fingernail.

He lifted the corner of his mouth in a half-smile. "I'm a proper Californian now, been workin' out," he said in an American accent.

She flashed her flirtiest smile and snuggled on his chest, while her hands tested his glutes. "You've had good results." She became aware of the smell of his skin—musky, coupled with the natural scent of the two of them, and wished she hadn't been so quick to shower it off of herself. She hugged him tighter.

This time Damian glared at the clock as if it were his sworn enemy.

He kissed the top of her head and said "Time to rejoin the world, girl." He pulled her away slightly. "You have to be on a plane in just a couple of hours, and I'm hungrier than I've ever been in my life. So I'm going to shower then we're going to the dining room together before we have to go to the airport. And I don't want to hear any talk about our only being bedmates. You were meant to be shown off and, by God, I'm going to do it."

He reached for his bag and she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Do you have to shower?"

He looked at her questioningly.

"You smell like us," she explained in a small voice.

He raised his arm to his nose and caught a heady aroma that made him think of the two of them back in bed. "I'll see what I can do."

Emily repaired her makeup from her tears. She smiled as she heard the trickle of water from the bathroom. She finished packing and tidied the room.

Damian came out, wearing jeans and a pullover sweater, looking just slightly less feral than when he had gone into the bathroom.

"You're so hot," Emily enthused.

He grinned, knowing that she said that to everyone.

"I'd say the same to you but it's not enough," he responded. "You're super-hot."

He raised his arms and asked "Is this the odor you wanted me to keep?"

She pressed her face against him. Not quite satisfied, she raised the front of his sweater and pulled it over her head so she was nestled on his bare chest again. There it was. She breathed in and ran her nose over his chest, absorbing the scent, committing it to memory. For once she seemed unaware of what effect her sensuous action might have on the poor guy on the receiving end.

"It's not odor," she said, finally coming out from under his shirt, "it's the smell of excitement and joy and…Damily."

He smiled as he put on his shoes and pocketed his phone. "Thank you for this," he said, "I can't tell you how much being here with you has meant to me."

"Oh it's been sheer hell for me," she teased, "but worth it if it helped. I want to be able to watch Rory for a long time and eventually see him seduce a girl—in a very hazy Glee kind of way."

Damian took her hands and looked up at her, his furrowed eyebrows conveying the seriousness of his message. "Whether they want me to continue on the show or whether I want to continue on the show, you've reminded me of who I am and all that I have to offer. I know I didn't get here by myself and I owe it to everyone who's supported me or worked with me to take care of myself so that I can do my best."

"Mission accomplished," Emily said proudly.

He drew her onto his lap. "You've awakened more than just my libido though. You remember in the Vulnerability episode my word was 'numb?' With you I'm anything but that. Not only do I feel more for myself, I have a sense of what you're thinking and feeling. We've touched each other."

Emily covered her heart-beat-skipping reaction to his statement with her customary flippancy. "That's one way of putting it" she said, attempting to pull him off of the sofa. "Let's go."

She was thoughtful walking to the elevator, beginning a refrain with which she would hold herself together for the rest of the afternoon, _Just get on the plane, just get on the plane…_

To Damian she said, "Can we keep it light, Stud? I'm enjoying you too much for big statements." He nodded in reply.

They were quiet in the elevator and, stepping out into the lobby, she chirped, "Do you want to see how much a chica can eat?"

"Why don't you go get a table while I settle at the desk," he said.

It wasn't quite the dinner hour so the dining room was nearly empty. Emily ordered some wine for herself and, seeing him enter the room, drew a deep breath and continued her internal commandment—_just get on the plane. You can break down then. Just get on the damn plane._

During the meal they talked about their families and work and very different environments growing up. They exchanged news about their mutual friends. They laughed and touched discreetly. Damian drank from her wine glass when he _knew_ people were looking, which was most of the time. There's just something about a beautiful young couple, besotted with each other, that draws and holds the eye.

After eating, Damian said he'd take care of the check and Emily went to the restroom. _Just get on the plane, _she said to herself again, staring at her face in the mirror, while uncooperative tears began to slide down her cheeks. She gave in to her feelings for a few minutes, chastising herself for creating this situation. Following her small breakdown she fixed her makeup again then adopted her sassy veneer.

**UPGRADE**

Outside the hotel, Damian and Emily approached the nearest cabdriver.

"I'm…Damian McGinty and you are…"

"Carl," said the driver.

"Carl, I want to stroll with this beauty on the beach before we have to go to the airport. I'd like to leave our bags with you and you can meet us at the pier in about twenty minutes, alright?"

While stowing the bags in the trunk, Damian tactfully noted the cab number and enough characteristics of the driver so that he could give a good description if necessary.

On the beach the couple walked silently hand-in-hand. Damian was saving his big statements for the airport and Emily was still chanting to herself, _Just get on the plane, just get on the plane._

At the pier, they got in Carl's cab and Damian took out a small package.

"I had this done while we were eating," he said. "I hope you like it."

It was a bracelet with ropes of gold and, dangling from them, a black medallion. Etched into it was their hotel room number. _Perfect,_ Emily said to herself.

"But I don't have anything for you," she pouted, as he helped her with the clasp on the bracelet and kissed the inside of her wrist.

"You've got to be kidding," he said, with an impish grin.

"And you've got to be kidding if you don't think this was mutual." she said, rummaging through her purse for something to give him. She sighed in frustration, unable to find anything fun or meaningful. Then her dark brown eyes lifted and lit with an idea and she sat up in the seat and whispered to Carl.

Wordlessly, as if enchanted, he removed from his dashboard the swaying hula dancer doll and handed it to her.

She presented it to Damian triumphantly. "Maybe she can sleep with Woody," she teased. "Now we just have to make this cab memorable."

So they made out in the cab on the way to the airport—appropriate, since the previous day they had made out in the cab on the way to the hotel.

Carl significantly moved the taser that he kept on the seat next to him to the glove compartment. _Those kids aren't stealing anything,_ he said to himself, _except each other's hearts….damn I'm good!_

At the airport, Damian paid the fare and gave Carl a huge tip. Emily gave him a kiss on the cheek.

She was chosen at the security checkpoint for extra screening. Damian glowered at the man with the security wand as he swept it all around her.

"You might want to think about wearing sweats the next time you fly," he said as they approached the waiting area for Emily's plane. "I wanted to hate that guy but I couldn't really blame him. I'd say a lot of men lose control of their wands around you."

She loved how he could still sound innocent while saying something risqué. Two could play that game.

She turned to him just before she went to check in. Making her eyes wide like a curious child, she asked "wingardium leviosa or engorgio?"

His eyes opened almost as wide, as he realized she had just sexualized his favorite childhood story, with perfect pronunciation. _She makes Harry Potter hot—irresistible._

To her he said, "I got an upgrade on your flight. That cheap bastard Sam is going to hear from me. I don't want you to think I'm controlling or a snob about first class. I just wanted you to be able to relax after such a….athletic weekend."

_Perfect,_ she thought again.

They sat down to wait for her plane. He leaned over her the way he had on the hotel sofa.

"Don't fight me Emily," he began. "I'm a lucky guy and I get what I want but I always want more. You are more. You might even be enough."

_Just get on the plane…_

"No," she said, rising from the couch and walking to the window to see the plane being readied, "I'm not right for America's and Ireland's sweetheart."

"I'll decide what's right for me," he stated forcefully, following her. He couldn't understand it. It wasn't their ages. She didn't treat him as though he was younger and he was more of a man around her. She cared more than she admitted. He could feel their attraction. Hell, everyone around them could feel it.

Grasping at straws and any possible reason for her resistance he said, "And don't worry about Cameron. He's going to have to understand that we're different. There's only one virgin in that apartment and it ain't me. I lov a good fawk, and this weekend I've had the best."

_Perfect_. She threw herself into his arms, still torturing herself with her chant.

He ran his lips along her cheek and hairline.

"You'll be back, girl," he whispered. She shook her head no, but wasn't able yet to let go of him.

Again she breathed in the smell she'd come to love, to which had been added more of Damian's natural scent. _God, I wish I could bottle it,_ she thought to herself.

Then he felt the change in her. Calling on her last reserves, she flipped her hair and flashed her smile. "So long, Irish."

He responded with a smirk and a wink. "Later, Latina."

And they turned in opposite directions. Damian kept looking back but Emily didn't. She made it only a few steps before the emotional dam she'd been building gave way. Suddenly the woman who had been walking behind her was by her side.

"I don't blame you, honey," she said placing a comforting arm around Emily, "he's awful cute. He looks a little bit like that new boy on Glee."

Damian sent a message to the conspirators, _Thanx. Who knew samuellarsen and brycevine so smart?_

He immediately received demands from both for details.

_None of your damned business_ was all the reply that they got.

On the plane Emily smiled down at her phone to which Damian had copied those messages.

"A gentleman too," she called back to the woman who had helped her board and was a couple of seats behind her. The woman smiled and nodded knowingly.

Damian continued through the airport, signing some autographs and posing for pics with fans along the way. He hailed another cab and settled in the back with his phone. He played the recording he'd made of their duet, forwarded it to Emily, then hit replay for himself.

Emily watched the clip through her blurry eyes, recalling the time they'd had together and the feelings she wasn't able to suppress. She touched the screen and murmured with the deep, accented voice at the end, "That was lovely."


End file.
